


This Life is a Maze With Only One Way Out.

by yucksoup



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Manga Characterization, Mild Gore Descriptions, No Beta, One Shot, some ryo kinnie vents through writing, then hurt again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28722438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yucksoup/pseuds/yucksoup
Summary: Ryo finally breaks beneath the harsh grasp of his self pity.
Relationships: Asuka Ryo | Satan/Fudo Akira
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	This Life is a Maze With Only One Way Out.

**Author's Note:**

> HI!! It's been a year or so since I've posted, huh? You're never gonna guess what I got for you all. More angst, from yours truly. Mwah <3
> 
> It's always when I am severely depressed I manage to write something worth posting.. errmm.. Enjoy, friends.

"Ryo?"   
  
  
"Hm?" Piercing blue irises peeled themselves from a textbook, meeting the deep brown ones across from them.  
  
  
"What are you so scared of?"   
  
....Ryo was taken aback by this question. It was out of character for his friend, who was a simple person, making obvious observations from around him or asking questions about things he could not comprehend. Akira asked Ryo something that indicated the suggestion his dear demon friend had truly been observing his mannerisms, all this time. That brought a feeling of discomfort upon the blonde, narrow palms rested on the edges of the book in his lap beginning to grow clammy. He avoided Akira's gaze, seemingly in a dismissive sense. Truthfully, that inquiry in itself brought him fear. Swallowing thickly, Ryo parted his thin lips to reply,  
  
"Care to elaborate?" He asked calmly, despite his internal circumstance.  
  
The teen sat across from Ryo, on the sleek blue sofa, long and defined legs crisscrossed over one another. He rested his hands in his lap, eyes bright and curious. The blonde eyed the fact Akira had feet on his sofa, but decided now wasn't an appropriate moment to be assertive about something like that. "You seem so caught up in stuff, and urgent. You never really talk to people. Since we've met once again, it feels like you only speak to other people when you want something from them."   
  
The blonde looked up from the book once again, heart pounding in his chest. The tips of his ears felt like they were on fire, and he began to sweat beneath his trench coat. Was this a confrontation? Was Akira actually suspecting something? Those thoughts raced though his mind, so much he couldn't even form a response. Instead, he stared blankly at his friend, almost unknowingly on his accord. Akira picked up on this, and he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry, I'm just worried about you. Are you alright?"   
  
Shit. Now he had to respond with something.. though, it was a good question. How was he? Truth be told, he didn't know himself. Ryo had a hard time understanding himself and it brought him great frustration. Forming words for such only enhanced this. Not to mention, he despised having conversations like these. He briefly recalled the amount of teachers or perhaps managers or professors who had asked him the same thing. His well-being was never exactly a priority to him. He felt perfectly content on his own, without assistance, without complex human relationships. Ryo found staying within his own headspace and train of thought was more peaceful. Maintaining any kind of relationship was terribly draining.. and terrifying. That familiar vulnerability and fear of such being violated always festered within him. Too much for him to bother. Humans were naturally judgmental, so caught up in their morality. Such a variety of intentions anyone could have, such a variety in which Ryo could be perceived and analyzed. Plotted against. The thoughts fueled his preexisting paranoia.  
  
Akira was right, he was afraid. Akira was the only person he wasn't irritated by. While the dark-haired dork sometimes never shut his damn mouth, Ryo never felt afraid of being around him. Akira is empathetic and honest, virtuous in Ryo's eyes. He never forced Ryo to change his ways, never judged the blonde and always remained truthful to his promises. He was good conversation, despite his inability to grasp onto complex concepts like Ryo can. The blonde always felt like their relationship was one sided, all throughout his life he frequently felt as if Akira had loved him more than he loved him. As if they were to hypothetically split one day, Akira would be heartbroken while Ryo remained nearly entirely unscathed, able to brush off the loss with ease. Ryo pitied himself for his social inabilities. He had the knowledge, money, and capability to step ahead in life, live comfortably and maintain a proper reputation, but forming something as simple as a friendship was beyond his skill.. and his will. Ryo didn't befriend Akira, Akira befriended him. He wished he had the desire to feel something as warm and bubbly as love, he wished he had the will and understanding humans did.   
  
Ryo felt tears well up at the edges of his eyelids, and he resisted the instinct of curling his lips to cry. Taking a deep breath, he attempted speech, "I'm.."   
  
It was all that came out, in a shaky, hollowed voice. Ryo's nasal cavity stung. There was no point in hiding it from Akira this time, especially considering the ebony haired male quickly picked up on Ryo's sudden change in emotion. Without hesitating, Akira leaned over and pulled the blonde into a tight embrace, gently running his fingers over a seam on the blonde's trench coat. Ryo took this time to let loose, on the years of pent up emotion he kept within him, in the form of rather unattractive sobs, soaking Akira's shirt in tears. "Ryo- it's okay.." He murmured, "Calm down, it's alright. You're safe here." He reassured something he had no knowledge on. It was comforting to the blonde nonetheless, and through the thick haze of despair he felt a light sense of appreciation for his friend's understanding and lack of judgement. Akira's presence alone brought him stability, the comfort to do something as rash as this.   
  
Oh dear. The tables of that speculative had turned an entire one-eighty degrees. Akira was not the man who dreaded and grieved loss. A shaky gasp erupted from Satan's formally unconscious form, and he quickly shot up from where he laid. His vision and thoughts were jumbled and disoriented, washed together like a watercolor painting, briefly unable to differentiate reality from fiction. Had he fallen into slumber or unconsciousness? He took a moment to observe his grim surroundings. Red.. harsh and unforgiving red and grey and black dirt, the dirt the severed carcass of his dearest friend laid on.   
  
Something as solacing as crying into a loved one's clothing was nonexistent in the frightful realm he created. The moment all of this became something to loathe was the moment he lost Akira. His cheeks were cold and raw from previous tears shed.. tears when he was unconscious. It was indeed all a dream, consisting of his own guilty conscience. Was it truly something to feel guilty of?   
  
His gaze flicked over to his late friend, over the pale, sickly grey skin. Those lifeless eyes and parted chapped lips, unruly black hair, all the way down to the torn and mutilated flesh and dried organ, and bones that jutted out of the harsh decapitation. This body rested here for some time, shades of black and blue along with wounds made long before the boy died were scattered about. Satan's ghostly white hand reached over to feel the dying skin. Akira's muscles were stiff, and the leathery surface was so cold. He swallowed back stringing the urge to cry momentarily. He had never seen Akira so lifeless, so blank-faced. Those eyes brought him unease. With two gentle fingers, Satan reached over and gingerly pulled the firmly stiffened eyelids closed. Warm, heavy tears ran down his cheeks once again, dripping onto Akira's chest, and he hiccupped. Satan leaned down and impotently placed a gentle, soft kiss onto Akira's wizened lips. The archangel's body shook and convulsed as he pulled away, eyelids squeezed tight as he continued to weep uselessly. Hushed whimpers of pain resonated from him.   
  
No. A mere dream was nothing to feel and guilt for, not in comparison to the immense resent he felt now.

**Author's Note:**

> One Kind Of People - Amigo the Devil


End file.
